


Hiraeth

by InsaneBrit



Category: Sally Face (Video Games)
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst, Developing Relationship, Dialogue Heavy, Drug Use, Dystopian, Eventual Smut, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:01:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23048959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneBrit/pseuds/InsaneBrit
Summary: (I suck at descriptions so bear with me)All he could ever remember from that day was the screaming. The firm grip on his arm as he was tugged left and right trying to avoid getting trampled.Then silence.It was deafening. It was bothering and made him realize that no one could hear his desperate pleas.The silence brought on disaster, false hope, and despair.Sal Fisher hated it.
Relationships: Sal Fisher/Larry Johnson
Comments: 1
Kudos: 15





	1. Prologue

The city was as it has always been, even before his time. Devoid of warmth and welcome. The streets laid barren, a collection of buildings framing the outskirts and internal layouts of the complex system put in place by the wretched beings dominating the world. Banners hang with slogans to be read by those foolish enough to follow. Their rips and tears only serving as a sign of victory amidst the decaying souls crying out for a savior.  
The small crowds and individuals that once walked the street have now dissipated into the air. Dust particles following in their wake. If you look closely, you'll see the curtains in a building draw back to reveal the hollow eyes of another being. A shell of a person once alive before shutting all too soon. As he walked down those damp streets still slick in his mind with the blood of the innocent, he was the only beating heart, the only being of warm blood and flesh. Everyone else around him hidden in the shadows were practically prisoners in their own mind. They had abandoned their plentiful bodies and were now corpses. Fearful of the future and change. Fearful of the presence and all but human things they called their leaders.  
The words he spoke fell on deaf ears with no boots at all to hear, save his. No one would tolerate this kind of defiance and if he was found out he surely without a doubt would be stuffed away in the depths of the earth to rot. His screams would be drowned out by the malicious laughter and antagonizing taunts of how he thought he could save them all. He would endure every possible torture known to man and more. Until his own vocal cords snapped and his skin melted from his bones. He would vanish and be forgotten like everyone that came before him.  
One eye looked out from beyond his prosthetic to look ahead at the clock tower, forever stuck at half past noon. It was as if God had stopped time, removed everything around him so he could see it for real, see how everything really was. And in that moment all he wished for was another beating heart in this desolate city, another being of warm blood and flesh, one pair of boots to walk next to his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello guys! I want to start off by saying that I'm so sorry that It took this chapter so long to get out. I had started writing it and then halfway through it things went to Hell and I haven't written since. BUT I'm back to updating this AU/story and I hope all of you have been having a good time since the last update (at least for the most part with everything going on in the world). I'm also planning to start making the chapters longer!
> 
> !!! This chapter contains the subject of poverty and malnutrition !!!
> 
> Hope you all are having a wonderful day/night and enjoy the chapter!

The sun rose, filling the sky with shades of orange and pink. Peach and magenta, amber and rose, radiating hope, a new beginning. Another chance to live. The start of a brand-new day. Too bad that, that was too out of reach.  
The clouds rolled in and tucked the city away from the vibrant reds and oranges of early morning. The atmosphere growing heavy. Ash and dust littered the air making it hard to breathe. A faint beam of light peaked through Sal’s curtains hitting him right in the eyes. The boy furrowed his eyebrows and rolled over facing away from the window. A sigh of protest coming from his mouth. The bed creaked as he threw the blankets off of him and sat up, hands cradling his head. He looked to the alarm clock next to his bed. 

7:00 a.m.

Shaking his head, he stretched. His spine cracked as he arched it and got up from the warm haven. All the stores would be opening up soon. It was the perfect time to get up if he wanted to beat the crowds of people that would be swarming the market for much needed supplies. Air from the vent above his bed blew on the curtains, parting them enough for Sal to see outside. Squinting from the light he peered outside to see some people walking down the streets. Thank god the search was over. He swore he was going insane from not being able to step one foot outside the front door. Now he can finally get some fresh air, or what he considered to be fresh air. 

A shudder ran through him when his feet hit the cool tile of the bathroom. Double checking that his clothes were still laid out on the counter; a black sweater and dark grey ripped jeans, and a pair of boxer briefs he turned on the shower. Wincing when hearing the rattling of the pipes from inside the walls. He hoped that didn’t wake up his dad, or anyone else for that matter in the building. However, because of the lift on house arrest his dad and many others might’ve already gone back to work. 

He’d have to make this a quick shower if he still wanted to beat the crowds. He’s never been able to take his time in the shower, at least not in the mornings. Though there’s always the option to shower at night he felt as though he was disturbing the neighbors with the noise, so he rarely did.  
Glancing in the mirror while waiting for the water to heat up, he snorted. His hair was a disaster and that was putting it lightly. The worst of it was toward the nape of his neck where you could see the bundles of knots. He began to brush it out, starting at the ends and working upwards. A growl came from his throat when he reached the knots in the back. “Fucker,” he hissed as the tangles were slowly coming undone. Finally, hairbrush set aside, he got to the point where he could run his fingers through his hair with relatively little tangles.

Sticking his hand under the water to test the temperature, humming when realizing it was perfect. He grabbed a towel and draped it over the bar on the side of the shower door. The water was warm-not blistering, but nowhere near cool. A relaxing temperature that had him tilting his head back into the running water and sighing as it ran over his shoulders. How he wished he could stand in here forever and just think. Thinking is dangerous. 

He reached out and grabbed his shampoo, squirting a generous amount into his hand before kneading it into his hair. Last night he made a checklist of the things he needed to pick up. It was sitting on the kitchen counter, at least hoped it was. He really didn’t want to have to go back for something if he forgot it. As much as he’s excited to be able to go outside, the last place he wants to spend that time is at the market with a bunch of whining children and angry adults. 

He tilted his head back, rinsing the pine, floral smelling shampoo from his hair. The list wasn’t lengthy so he shouldn’t be gone too long. Maybe afterwards he could walk around and see what else this city has to offer. The last time he can remember ever actually exploring beyond the few places he knows of already was before the accident. Shaking his head, he blinked back tears.  
Today’s not the day to be thinking about that.

Reaching out he grabbed blindly for the conditioner. His fingers running through blue locks, detangling it. His mind wondered again- to a friend he hadn’t been able to talk to for a while. She had long dark brown hair and piercing green eyes. Ashley was a kind soul; fierce but understanding when it came down to the core of it all. She was determined and stubborn; always ready for practically anything. Sal admired her for that. She was someone he strived to be, and he missed her dearly along with his other friends. When the routine happens every month, it becomes very difficult for people to contact others, especially with this one being long and them being so thorough. 

Conditioner washed out; he began to wash himself down. Fingertips ran over divots and rough patches on his skin. The accident didn’t do much damage to his lower body, mostly the upper. Some scars were clean cut from weapons while others were deep, jagged done by teeth and claws. The majority were on his face, shoulders, and neck. A few ran down his back and stomach but going lower the scars were few and far between. 

Eyes closing, he let the water wash the suds from his body. At least the water was clean. Every once in a while, late at night, he would hear his dad talking to his coworker’s downstairs. Talking about how bad the conditions were down south. The buildings were crumbling, people dying left and right, and the water; it was dark and grimy. Slick and cold. He thought it was bad up here but after hearing those conversations, he considered this place a blessing. Standing there for a few more seconds, he sighed savoring the last warmth from the water before it was shut off. Quickly he toweled off before wrapping his hair up with the cloth. 

Without so much as a glace in the mirror he pulled on the underwear and jeans, tugging the sweater over his head, accidentally knocking the towel lose. Frustration evident in his eye, he fixed the towel on top of his head. Glancing down at the sweater he frowned. He must’ve lost more weight than he realized this month. With all those thoughts running amok in his head these past few weeks he didn’t eat as much. It made him feel sick. The sweater was baggier than before, making Sal opt to tuck it in. Even with the weight loss he was still very healthy considering the conditions of the city, and for that he was grateful. 

Taking the towel off his head he threw it over the top of the shower. Brush in hand, he began to brush out the newly created tangles. Gritting his teeth at the occasional knot being tugged before he grabbed the hair dryer. Flicking it on, cool hair hit him before it started to heat up. Starting from the back of his head he worked on drying the thicker part of his hair and then went around to the front. Finishing up he looked at the little clock on the opposite wall. 

8:09 a.m. 

Setting the hair dryer down rather quickly he pulled open the right counter drawer, grabbing a ponytail. He set to work on putting his hair in a low bun with a few strands hanging out. When finished he briskly walked out of the bathroom and over to where his prosthetic laid on the bedside table. He slid it over his face, careful not to catch his bangs underneath and buckled the top straps. Leaving the bottom unbuckled for better breathing purposes. Smoothing his bangs out with his fingers he tugged on a dark denim jacket. He made sure his wallet was still in the inside pocket with enough money needed for today.  
Trudging down the stairs he grabbed the keys hanging on a hook and shoved them in his other coat pocket. Slipping on his shoes he turned, and double checked that everything was turned off before opening the front door. 

The wind was the first thing that he noticed. It hit him like a freight train, almost making him fall. Hands gripped the railing on the side of the house leading down the stairs. The ash and dust swept in through the eye holes in his prosthetic making him cough. Up righting himself he cleared his throat and surveyed the area around him. Not much changed, not that it would. It was still gloomy as ever, the air heavy on people’s shoulders.

Goosebumps ran down the length of his arms as the chilly air blew into the sleeves of his sweater. No longer gripping the railing Sal walked down the concrete cracked steps, arms folded in a weak attempt to keep himself shielded from the raging wind. A storm must be coming. Just what everyone needed in to “keep their spirits up” Sun would be a nice change. He doesn’t remember what the sun really looked like. Even if some kind of miracle happened and the ball of gas appeared one day and stayed, he couldn’t even imagine how frightened people would be. He looked up at the sky and squinted despite the wind blowing dirt around him. It was just beyond his reach. 

He shook his head looking down at the ground. It’s a foolish mindset. He shouldn’t get his hopes up. He should just be happy with what he’s been given. For all he knew he could be living farther south where things are worse. He sympathizes with those poor souls living there. Even if he doesn’t quite know their pain. 

Sighing he trudges along towards downtown. The shopping district (although he doesn’t like to admit) is almost like safe haven. Sort of. It is if you know who to socialize with and more of a Hell if you mess with the wrong people. Luckily, he’s been alive this long to know the ends and outs of multiple places and downtown isn’t new to him. Others are not so lucky. Half of the people with children are too afraid to let their kids discover things for their own and Sal doesn’t blame them. One day you could have your little miracle child and the next their life is snuffed out by the bastards hiding away from the crimes they’re too much of a coward to admit to. It’s sickening. 

Still looking at the ground he kicks a stray pebble out if his way. Mumbling to himself the things on the list he needs to get once moreover, so he doesn’t have to stay there for too long. 

“Milk, olive oil, salt…. beer? Really?” He rolls his eyes. 

Groaning at the fact that no matter how hard he tries he can’t seem to get his father to let up on alcohol.  
Sighing a cold shiver runs up his spine making him freeze. It’s colder than what the wind has brought in. It makes him want to run. He feels so… vulnerable. Not something that he’s felt in a long time and it’s uncomfortable. 

Eye’s shooting up to survey his surroundings, he doesn’t see anything at first but then they fall onto the path in front of him.  
He blinks and shakes his head not wanting to believe what he’s seeing. But she’s there and she’s real. A ghostly young girl not more than the age of 7 stands there staring at him. Her pale lavender hair blows steadily with the wind like it’s nothing. A cream nightdress gently flutters with her hair. It’s torn and has holes worn in it. Her eyes stare right through him. They’re milky, fogged over and she has no emotion on her face. It’s almost like she’s reading him like a book. Studying his every page and wanting to learn more without showing it. The worst part though, was how malnourished she is. Her bones showing through her pale skin a prominent feature defining her. Her cheekbones sunken, legs thin, and ribs showing through the holes in her dress.  
He winces looking at how bad of a shape she’s in. He can’t even imagine the pain she’s going through. Reaching in to pull some money out of his pocket he mutters to her,

“Hey, I can buy you something to eat or-,” He paused looking up. 

She was gone. Gone and he only looked away for a few seconds. Alarmed he darted his eyes back and forth, head turning this way and that in search of her. But she was nowhere in sight. The only thing in her place was swirling lines of dust and dirt which swiftly went on their way.  
He let out a shuttering breathe. She couldn’t have been that fast, could she? There was no way. He would’ve seen her. Feeling defeated he tucked the money back in his pocket and slumped over a little. Next time he sees her he will help her. He swears on it. No one should have to go through that. 

Looking around once more to double check he sighs when seeing nothing. Fog is slowly starting to set in. Brushing the streets with streams of white. An ice-cold feeling runs through his veins and nestles in for a stay. Hair standing up on end, a tingly feeling in his legs. Wanting to be in and out as fast as possible from the outside world and back in his apartment with his dad, he continues on. 

“This is not going to be a good day.” 

(unedited)


	3. Chapter 1

Sal rested his hand on the aging concrete walls of the home he and his father resided in. The pads of his fingertips brushing over the imperfections created from the low droning that sounded below the Earth's crust at dusk and dawn. Luckily, the vibrations weren't enough to bring down a building even if it seemed like it should. His eye's flickered over his knuckles where the skin was dry and cracking. Little beads of blood pooled and threatened to run down the length of his hand. He needed new bandages. Him and his father needed a lot of things, but who didn't? Since everyone was practically placed on house arrest while law enforcement did their monthly search of the main and surrounding cities, resources were running low. Normally they didn't take this long. A day or two but it's been almost a week. If Sal knew it would take them this long he would've gotten more things at his weekly visit to the market. God knows how much longer it'll be before they can step outside into what little streaks of sunlight manage to escape through the clouds. 

'They are thorough. That's for sure. Never missing a detail... '

A drawn out sigh passed Sal's lips. He let his hand drop from the wall to his side with a small slap noise. The sound bounced off the walls and settled back into unnerving silence. He hated it. It made his stomach churn and bile rise in his throat. Nothing ever filled the silent void that this world had been cast into. Only sounds that people ignored and locked their doors to. The wailing of women and children, the stoic faces of men, and the anguished screaming of those being dragged off to who knows where. It chilled Sal to the bone and tugged at his heart ever so slightly. 

'But this was right. Wasn't it?'

If this was how the world was supposed to be then why did he feel so disgusted every time he looked in the mirror. It was like he was seeing another version of himself. A version that wasn't him at all. But that was him, and his own reflection staring right back scars and all. He could feel the maggots crawling underneath his skin. Eating away ever so slowly until he was nothing but a skeletal figure. The coldness spread throughout his body and the slick feeling brought on an itch. 

A sharp pain drew him from his thoughts and he glanced down at his arm. Apparently while deep in thought he scratched the skin on his forearm raw.

"Damn it" He hissed under his breath. 

It was no surprise that this happened. It had become a bad habit over the years though he can't remember how it came about. He shuffled over to the worn down bathroom and opened the cupboard. Scanning over bottles upon bottles of medication until he spotted a tall semi transparent one in the corner. Reaching out and grabbing it, he proceeded to soak a nearby washcloth with the last of the rubbing alcohol. 

"One more thing to add to the list". He sighed letting his head fall back against the dirty bathroom wall. 

A loud thud from downstairs startled Sal and caused him to peak his head out from the bathroom and eye the stairs. A shadow moved along the tile floor at the bottom of the steps followed by a long string of curses. A small side smile formed on Sal's face before disappearing almost instantly as he moved to walk down the stairs. The washcloth and rubbing alcohol long forgotten. He stepped down the oak stairs carefully as to not make too much noise. The stairs were old and had many places where they would creak. Such as the bottom step which he hopped over with ease when reaching the bottom. The light from under the microwave emitted a soft yellow glow and illuminated his father standing at the counter. His elbows rested on the counter, his hands supporting his head as he tried to calm his breathing. No doubt he startled himself by tripping over something in the darkness. Cans littered the floor. Mostly along the walls and around the coffee table. The trash can was overflowing with crumpled up paper and the slight smell of smoke lingered in the air from a recently put out cigarette. 

'When we're allowed outside again I'll clean this up and take it out.'

It was the least he could do. After all, it normally wasn't this bad. 

Sal cleared his throat which made his father look up with wide eyes. After their mini staring contest his father relaxed and sighed. Visibly dejected. 

"Did I wake you? I'm sorry if I did Sal." 

Sally walked towards his father and took up the space next to him.

"No, I was already awake." he yawned out ruffling his blue hair a little. 

Henry side eyed him and nudged his arm a little. "You need to get some sleep kid. I don't understand how you can function with so little of it." 

Sal shrugged but didn't say a word. 

Truth was that he was tired. Very tired but couldn't always sleep. He didn't consider it to be insomnia but more or less the night terrors he got. Or what he assumed to be night terrors. He would wake up in a cold sweat jerking from his bed to the floor. Heart pounding almost threatening to tear open his chest for a way to escape. His body shook uncontrollably, especially his hands. They were the last to stop shaking. His throat would feel dry and he wouldn't be able to swallow. The dust kicking up from his erratic breathing made everything worse. Yet somehow he never seemed to be able to remember the dreams. They didn't come every night but he would be afraid to sleep. It terrified him. 

Telling Henry was never an option. Sal didn't want to put anything else on his father's shoulders. He had enough to deal with though he rarely tells Sal half of what's going on. His son could read him like a book. 

Chuckling could be heard from Sal's right. He turned his head to look at his father with furrowed brows. "What's so funny?" 

Henry coughed into his fist and tried to wipe the small smile off his face. "Nothing, it's just obvious you're tired." 

His son scoffed "How do you know I'm tired? I just yawned." 

Henry raised his eyebrows. His forehead creased in the process. "Exactly my point!" 

Sal rolled his eye and started off towards the stairs. "Yawning doesn't always mean people are tired dad." 

His dad hummed in acknowledgment but made a shuing motion towards the stairs when sal paused to glare at him. "Either way it's only a few hours until sunrise. I heard they should be finished with their routine search tomorrow. I would suggest getting some shut eye before then." 

Sal perked up a little at the thought of getting to go outside again. Even if it's not the nicest he wanted out of this cramped building. "It's about time." 

"You tell me, I need to get back to work." Henry said while sitting up straighter. "I'm going to try and get in a few more hours of sleep. You should too Sal. Goodnight." He patted Sal's back while walking into his bedroom and shutting the door.

Sal stood there for a few moments staring at the door then shifting his eye to the window in the living room. The clock on the table near it read 4:00AM. No lights were on outside minus one street light. Goosebumps prickled his arms and he started to feel choked up. As swiftly as he could he grabbed the curtains and closed them. Standing there for a few more moments he rubbed the back of his neck and muttered to himself to calm down. 

The stairs groaned in protest as he retreated back to his room. Though he didn't care as much this time. Shutting the door and locking it he flopped down onto the blanket covered bed and rolled over onto his back. Breathing deeply and realizing that he forgot to ask what his father was even awake for. Normally he's fast asleep and a deep sleeper at that. Anyways, theres always morning. 

He reached over to make sure his prosthetic was still residing on the bedside table and with that he turned off the lights. Pulling the covers back and snuggling into their warmth he rested one arm behind his head staring at the ceiling. 

'I'll get up early tomorrow to go get what we need and to clean up a little. Hopefully dad's right about it all being over for now.'

With that thought everything fell back into silence. It brought on disaster, deception, false hope leaving behind broken pieces and dismembered buildings with its withering people anticipating what's next. 

The same silence that Sal Fisher hated. 

[Unedited]

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for reading my story. I try and update at least once a week but that might not always happen. Feel free to pitch ideas, give constructive criticism, corrections, etc.  
> Have a good day/night <3


End file.
